


In Stone

by sexonastick



Category: Uncharted
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 21:02:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexonastick/pseuds/sexonastick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan, Elena, and Sully go looking for treasures in the English countryside. Lots of bickering, some god damn swearing, and sexual tension. Also, rain. There's a whole lot of rain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Stone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grab_bag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grab_bag/gifts).



"So how late are we?"

"We're fine. We've still got an hour before boarding."

"Wait." Nate dropped his bags where he stood and gave Elena a skeptical look. "I thought you said the flight leaves at 11:30."

"Yeah, about that--"

"Uh-huh?"

"I lied."

"Perfect."

"Look, you _always_ get held up at airport security."

Which was true of today as well, but still. But _still_. "Oh, so you don't trust me?"

"Well…"

She had a point, though.

Every time they tried to pass through security, Nate would forget something. He was good at traveling light, but not unarmed. He thought it was to his credit, honestly, that at least he'd never tried to bring a knife on board.

About ten different kinds of currency, all in coins, was another story. Where do you even put that in a bag without running the risk of losing it? It was always important to have money for the bus, wherever you were. This wasn't bad planning at all. It was precisely the opposite.

"How _often_ do you fly? And yet we go through this every time."

"Hey, come on. Be fair. Most of the planes I ride in don't even have seat belts, let alone security."

"Or working parachutes."

"See? Exactly."

"I can't _believe_ you almost killed me on our first trip together."

"Oh come on, you were perfectly safe."

"There was a _fire_."

"A small one."

"And an evacuation from a couple hundred feet in the air."

"Something to tell the grandkids."

She gave him a look, eyes bugging out a little.

"What?" Nate grinned, already prepared for his punchline. "Hey, well at least _I_ plan to tell _my_ grandkids all about it one day. You know, once I marry Angelina Jolie and we settle down to start a family."

"Ohh, right." Elena winked and grabbed Nate by the arm to drag him through the rest of the walk to their gate like some kind of unruly child. "Come on, stud."

 

*

The flight from Charles de Gaulle to Heathrow was just a little over an hour, with mild turbulence.

Nate ate a few peanuts and Elena elbowed him sharply when he spit one of the shells out on the floor.

"Ow!"

"Don't be _gross_."

They landed without incident and took a cab to a pub at the end of a winding road. Just some hole in the wall with good drinks and plenty of smoke in the air.

Sully had picked it out himself, and it showed.

"So, you made it okay." He held out his arms to hug first Nate and then Elena, shifting from one to the other. "So, you mind telling me what this is about?"

Elena shrugged, slipping loose from the big bear grip. "He hasn't told me anything either."

"Sneaky bastard."

"Sneaky bastard's about to get you a big payday, Sully."

"Oh? So let's hear it."

 

*

It was only once they'd settled in with their beers in a corner table, away from prying eyes and ears, that Nate began to lay out some of his plans. "I think I've found something," he began, but Sully just rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, we suspected as much. Get to the good stuff."

"If my hunch is right, we'll find the start of what we're looking for out in the woods. That should lead us to the next step."

"And, uh… what _are_ we looking for?"

"I've got something big."

"How big?" Elena said, sounding more dubious than impressed.

But Nate has always been the type of guy who knows how to play a room. He lets the dramatic silence linger just a little while longer, winking once in her direction. "You'll want to bring your camera."

"… that's it?"

That-- Well, it wasn't the reaction Nate expected. "Well, no. Obviously there's more, but I thought--"

"You thought I'd be impressed with 'bring your _camera_ '? Nate, I _always_ bring my camera. That's like telling Sully 'hey, don't forget to pack an extra floral print shirt."

"Hey!"

"Sorry."

This was getting out of control, and fast. "Look, I just thought you'd like it if I left something for a surprise. You know!" They both looked at him expectantly. God damn Sully for not lending a hand, even just a little bit. "The whole adventure in discovery."

"Oh, please."

 

*

Okay, so he probably shouldn't have said anything at all until they were actually out on the trail.

That was Nate's first mistake.

The second was trying to hike through these woods without a working compass.

"Maybe we should head back to the car."

"I know where we're going," Nate said, fully aware of how much that made it sound like he had no idea which direction they were even facing.

"Fine, but do you know where we _are_?"

He didn't answer, because he didn't trust himself to sound appropriately confident.

Elena could probably sense the hesitation. "How is Sully even going to _find_ us now that we're out here?"

"Oh, don't worry. He'll just track the sound of your yapping."

"Ha ha. Very funny."

"Oh, you think I'm joking?"

But it was pretty funny, actually, if Nate did say so himself.

Which he would have, if he didn't think it might result in Elena slapping him. Or worse.

Once you date a girl a while, you slowly begin to realize just how many things fall into the potential category of "or worse."

 

*

"No _way_ ," Elena gasped, and punched him in the shoulder.

It actually almost hurt, but Nate just laughed. "Told you it was big."

" _Camelot_?"

"Yeah."

"Like King Arthur--"

"Nooo, like Kennedy."

"-- Sword in the Stone. Guinevere. Lancelot."

"Yes, yes and yes."

"But that's just a _story_."

"Haven't you learned by now that every good story has its basis in reality?"

"So that time you told me you dated a super model--"

He let a branch snap back, nearly smacking Elena in the face and cutting her off mid-sentence.

Nate smiled; "You ever notice how they're all so super? You never see a middling model."

"What I notice is someone changing the subject."

"Hey, I think we're almost there!"

"Uh-huh."

 

*

By the time Sully did catch up, their conversation had gone in circles enough times that Elena didn't actually bother to ask how long it took or how he followed their path.

It's only another fifteen minutes before they find the cave.

"This is it!" Nate said, waving the torch over the lines of old dusty books and carefully preserved maps. "Just what we need."

"Which is what, exactly?" After this much hiking, Sully wasn't in the mood for subtlety.

"A map to our next location."

"Great," Sully grunted. "More walking."

"What _is_ this place?" Finally, Elena was sounding appropriately awed. She popped open the viewfinder on her camera and began to shoot.

Nate directed the torch light along the wall so that Elena could get a clearer shot of the stacks of books that lined the shelves.

"Merlin wasn't just some crazy old man." Nate grinned, but then clarified, adding, "Don't get me wrong: he was seriously old. But he was also smart. He kept his treasures hidden from the eyes of the world because he knew that most men couldn't be trusted with this kind of knowledge."

"Treasures, huh?" Sully perked up, visibly more interested at just the mention of the word. "What sort of treasures are we talking about here?"

"Books," Elena chimed in, eyeing the collection. "His knowledge."

"All the knowledge available to a wealthy or important man in his time. All of it stored away here."

"So this…"

"Yeah. This was Merlin's library."

Even just saying it aloud seemed to give the place an added sense of importance. Nate could almost picture the man in his long robes, bent over a manuscript by candle light.

"So he was real…" Elena trailed her hand along the spines of several books, as if making direct physical contact with the past would help to prove the point.

A real man with a real library, and it was all theirs to pick through. If Nate had just a little more time, he would have probably felt overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the content.

As it was, he had a specific goal in mind, and it didn't take long to find what he was looking for. "Ah-ha!" Nate slammed his book down and smiled, feeling triumphant.

"What're you making all that noise about?"

"The Fisher King!"

"The what?"

"The Fisher King," Nate said again, a little less triumphant this time since Elena seemed more confused than impressed. She really should have been impressed by now.

"That's meant to mean something to me, isn't it?"

"… yes?" This wasn't looking good. She was becoming less impressed by the _minute_. "Look, it's a story."

"What _kind_ of story?"

"Well, it's complicated."

"Can you simplify it?"

"Sex."

"… What?"

"In the end, like most things, it's really all about the sex."

If Nate were a lesser man, the look of pure disgust Elena gave him at that moment would probably make him insecure. Probably. He wouldn't know, of course. Nate had always been _very_ secure.

That's why it didn't bother him that Elena had already turned back to examining her own book, almost completely disinterested in anything else he had to say. She adjusted the zoom on her camera, getting a nice close shot of drawings on the page. Things like that don't bother men like him.

"So!" he said loudly, not because he wanted or needed the attention, but just to make sure that he was heard. "The Fisher King is in charge of the Holy Grail. He's the guardian."

"Nate," Elena said, her voice dripping with disdain. "The Holy Grail and _sex_? You're going to Hell."

"I am _not_ \--"

"Eternally. As in forever."

He gritted his teeth and flipped the book around to show her. "You _see_? The Fisher King is meant to be wounded. In the--" He waved his hand around vaguely, flopping it from side to side. "You know."

"Oh my _God_."

"But the Holy Grail cures him of his wounds. Don't you see? The Grail isn't about eternal redemption. It's about the _now_ \-- virility! Fertility."

"So…" Elena began slowly, running her hand over the pages of the book in front of her, dipping down into the crease along its spine. "It's kind of like Medieval Viagra?"

Nate had actually never thought of it in those terms before, and he didn't know whether to be impressed or unnerved. For now, he was settling somewhere precisely in between either option.

"Hey!" Sully rumbled from behind him, slinging an arm over one of them and then the other. "You two love birds talking about anything important?"

"No," Nate said quickly. "Definitely _not_." He shot Elena a dirty look that he hoped would be enough to keep her quiet.

"Oh, just Viagra."

But apparently not.

If she said anything else after that, Nate couldn't hear it over the sound of Sully's raucous laughter.

 

*

Sully was right about the map, once they found it. It meant more walking for nearly half a day, and then they saw it.

The castle wasn't anything like Nate expected.

It was so much better.

He'd seen ruins before, but there was something different here. Even the _air_ seemed different.

"Wow."

He hadn't heard Elena come up behind him, but he reached for her now. "Yeah."

For a building this old, you'd expect to see more damage. It was nearly ancient and old things were _meant_ to fall apart.

But here it was, almost preserved in time. Except for a few plants breaking through the cracks here and there, it seemed really structurally sound.

"So… where do we go?"

"If I say 'to our destiny,' are you gonna hit me?"

Sully snorted. "If she doesn't, I will."

And then suddenly it all fell apart.

Either the floor gave way, or maybe it was the ceiling. All Nate knew was suddenly there was smoke, dust and screaming. So much for structurally sound.

"Nate."

It was Elena's voice, already faint and growing fainter. More debris fell from above and he had to retreat. "Hold on, Elena! I'll be-- I'll--"

But the rest was lost in a fit of coughing.

 

*

The world wasn't moving how it was supposed to. For one thing, it kept moving even when Nate wasn't. The bricks slipped under his feet and he collapsed, leaning heavily into the wall for support.

His eyes rolled back up into his head and all around him things were spinning, but also humming too, high at an octave that only he could hear. Just Nate and the dogs.

And whatever else that was nipping at his ear.

 

*

Chloe purrs as she takes another quick nibble, clucking with her tongue and nipping with her teeth.

"Hey!" Nate yelps, wanting to seem outraged but mostly sounding aroused and maybe a little confused. "What are-- hey!"

He squirms and so does she. The friction is-- well, it's nice.

"Slow up, cowboy. We've got a long ride ahead of us."

"Am I _bleeding_? You aren't allowed to make me _bleed_."

"Oh, come on. Why else would anyone bother to buy red sheets?" Her nails work just under the edge of his shirt, rubbing over his belly and up, up, up. "Don't be such a baby, Nate. We _both_ know what a _very_ big boy you are."

He groans and lets his hips just roll into the sensation as Chloe's other hand dips low to settle against the heat at the front of his jeans.

Can't blame a man for being human.

He's younger here, in this moment, by nearly three years, and Chloe doesn't have that hardness in her eyes yet. She's almost just any girl again.

Except that she's so beautiful that he looks at her and he can feel the roof of his mouth going dry. When she speaks in that low growl he can feel it twisting in his gut before spreading out to tingle at the very tips of his fingers so that he's reaching now, feeling her smooth skin. She doesn't shiver when he touches, only smiles.

She's so slick, so many perfect angles, like when his hand creeps up her elbow. "Like a pistol," he growls. And she laughs. She always seems ready with a laugh.

"So why don't you pull the trigger?"

Her tongue is on his ear. Her hand moves to his belt, tugging at the buckle.

 

*

"Are you okay?"

She has a book in her lap, feet curled up on the sofa. She's been stirring her cup of coffee for about ten minutes now, but even so she's apparently too engrossed to look up when she says, "Hmm?"

He looks at her and then back out the window. "Nothing."

They're in Paris and it's been raining all day.

Nate shifts in his position against the window, watching Elena.

The meeting fell through and now they're stuck here with no plans and no transportation.

In theory, this really should be romantic.

But instead, it feels claustrophobic.

He wants to get out, away from the uncomfortable silence and out into the street with its traffic and constant shuffle of people. Even in the rain, it would be a relief. He's used to traveling around in wet clothes; this storm is nothing really.

But she would know then that something's wrong, and ignoring the elephant in the room has been the only thing they seem to agree on anymore.

Not that they fight.

They'd have to take more of an interest in each other to manage an actual fight.

The rain continues to fall outside, pelting out a quick staccato on the window. He leans his head against the cool glass and listens for other signs of life.

 

*

The brick felt wonderfully cool against Nate's cheek, but rough. The floor can be like that sometimes.

His head was pounding like a brass band in New Orleans, but worst of all was the taste on his tongue. It felt like he'd spent the past 24 hours licking sand paper. Or drinking something way too strong.

"Hello?"

The voice that echoed down the hall after Nate spoke sounded even weaker than he felt. This wasn't going to be easy. He put one hand against the wall to brace himself and tried to stand, one stumbling, shuffling step at a time. He leaned heavily into the wall and it managed to stay firm, holding him up. He gave it a small, appreciative pat.

"Easy does it now," Nate mumbled, more to build up his own confidence than for any other reason. The sound of his own voice could usually be pretty reassuring.

Though it probably helps that he seldom sounds so much like he's ten seconds away from heaving his guts out onto the floor.

The taste in his mouth is almost overwhelming.

It must be that smell.

It's like.

It's--

*

"-- only for a month." Her mouth is a thin, tense line. She isn't angry, just determined, which is almost more infuriating.

After this much time, Nate figures he at least _deserves_ a little anger. "Oh, good. I hope you enjoy your _vacation_ from me, then."

"Don't be such a baby."

"Oh, _really_?" is all he can think to say, and as soon as it's out he regrets it. He knows he's already lost this fight, but he can't give it up. He already _got_ the girl. How come no one told him keeping her was going to be this hard?

Her suitcase is on the bed, half-packed, and her back is to him. She's going through the dresser, trying to decide which outfit will best compliment the decor of ancient temples. Clearly her priorities are all in order.

"Elena, would you just _listen_ to me for once? It's not that I don't want to go!"

"But you can't. I know that, and it's _fine_." She tries on a hat in front of the mirror and frowns at her reflection.

" _Fine_?"

"It's a month, Nate. Not the rest of our lives."

But that's a lie, and it almost surprises him how good she is at telling it. He wouldn't have guessed that about her.

If she leaves now, she isn't coming back. First it's one job, then it's another. Nate knows. He's been the one to walk out before, but never the one left behind.

"You don't have to do this, you know."

Elena adjusts her necklace in the mirror and her eyes connect with his for just a moment before jerking away. "Nate…"

"You and me." He starts walking, or maybe it's the ground moving that's pulling him forward. "We're--"

"What?"

She isn't turned away anymore. Her back is up against the dresser and she's clutching at it as if holding on for dear life. Her face is tilted up toward him and it'd only be a few quick steps to reach her. To take hold of her mouth with his and kiss her.

"We make a really good team, is all."

He starts to move but waits too long, and she's already turned again.

His hand slips, and he--

He fell.

He--

 

*

The smell wasn't just heavy here. It was sickening. Overwhelming. It clenched inside Nate's belly like a living thing, coiling and rolling around.

Up above he could see the remnants of the path which had collapsed under his feet. All around was nothing but greenery, sticky and heady with the scent of-- something.

It was a familiar smell, but exotic too. Intoxicating. He touched one of the plants near its roots and stroked up the neck. The flower's petals opened underneath his touch, an angry red and pale blue mixed with green leaves and stem.

It left a greasy fluid on his fingers that made his hands feel like a thousand tiny needles were dancing over his skin.

"I better not get a rash from this," Nate muttered, wiping a messy smear against his jeans. It was just one stain amongst many.

He looked up again. It was a long way down, and the only direct route would seem to be the plants themselves.

A few grew up along the sides of the walls, protruding through the ruins and becoming a part of the landscape itself. A ladder provided by nature.

 

*

He was halfway up before he started to feel tired.

It just didn't make sense. He'd survived explosions and collapsing buildings, hand grenades and getting shot in the gut. Not to mention Elena's right hook.

A little fall shouldn't even wind him, yet here he was, panting and sweating, straining to make it just another agonizing inch.

It must be the smell, Nate realized dimly. That was the only thing that really made sense. The fumes in the room below were so thick that it almost blurred his vision, of course he'd have trouble breathing too. It was logical, so why hadn't he thought of it sooner?

He just needed to get back up there. Take some time to catch his breath and clear his head. That was all.

"Nate…"

It was almost as if he felt her before he heard her.

No, he smelled her. Nate could _smell_ Elena mixed in with whatever else that was -- that sticky sour smell of plant life and decay. In there with all the dust and the ruin, there was Elena's smell too. And her voice, echoing down the hallway.

"Elena!" he tried to shout, choking with the exertion and feeling his arms tremble. But the footsteps just kept going, growing fainter and further away.

 

*

He brings her back to Paris, to make amends and to make love.

 _Make love._ Elena's the only person he can say that to without feeling like a total idiot. Even though she'd still laugh.

He _likes_ her laugh. He might have missed it, he realizes. At least, if he's honest with himself, which he hasn't been in a long time.

"How come it's always raining when you bring me here? Don't you check the forecast?"

Her back is to him, but she laughs when he wraps his arms around her, burying his face against her neck. "Maybe I like the idea of making you wet."

"Oh boy! Are there women out there who actually fall for lines like that?"

"Maybe," he mumbles, almost distracted by her smell.

"You must have incredibly high standards."

"Oh, no. They're very low." He lets go of her for now, but doesn't pull away, their hips touching as they stand together watching the rain fall down on the streets of Paris. "I put up with you, after all."

"If by 'put up with' you mean you _impose_ yourself on me, then sure."

"It'd be impossible to call what I do imposing."

Elena laughs. She smiles, and he can hear it in her voice without having to look. "Okay, not bad. I'll let you have that one."

 

*

The Fisher King was charged with the keeping of the Grail. He is injured and impotent, and his land suffers for his weakness. It becomes infertile, barren and uninhabitable.

All that's left for him to live for is the water and the fish. Fisher King, king of nothing but a wasteland. King of minnows.

When the knights came they found a way to heal all wounds through the Grail.

And the land prospered once more.

 

*

It was slow going for a while, if only because Nate was starting to feel a bit stiff and sore. His back, for one thing, was killing him. If Elena was here, she'd probably call him a baby, but it seriously hurt.

And she wasn't here anyway.

"Oh, just look at _you_."

That voice. There was something _so familiar_ about that _voice_. Nate's vision was still a little fuzzy -- not to mention the pounding in his head -- but if he blinked enough everything slowly came into focus, and-- oh God.

"Flynn!"

"Alright, yes yes, I'm here. There's no need to _shout_."

"… but you're dead!" Nate yelped, still very much shouting.

"Oh, so you remember. How sweet."

"You're _very_ dead. I saw you _blow up_."

"And I don't suppose saying 'I got better' is going to be enough to pacify you? Hmm? Tree of bloody Life, genius."

 

*

It didn't get less weird with time or even as they started to cover more ground together. If anything, that was even stranger. Ghosts weren't supposed to be this mobile, and neither were corpses.

That pretty much only left "hallucination" as the remaining option, and that one actually seemed pretty plausible anyway. At this point, Nate was starting to feel pretty crazy.

"She went this way…" He started off in one direction, limping slightly, but then stopped. "I think. Or-- Or maybe--"

"Oh, this is going to be fun. I can tell already."

"Look, I didn't ask for you to join me."

"Well, now I really beg to differ. Everything about this has been a pretty desperate cry for help, wouldn't you say?"

It was so close to being a rational point coming from a figment of Nate's imagination that he decided not to say anything at all.

"And who better to assist you than a charming fellow with a handsome smile?"

"Are you still talking?"

"Oh, right. Because you're just the king of brevity, aren't you?"

"I prefer to think of myself as a prince, actually."

"Charming."

"Thank you."

 

*

They don't hold hands in public, but they don't have to. Just the proximity feels nice, the sound of Elena's footsteps moving in time with his.

She sends a smile in his direction, and he can see it out of the corner of his eye. Nate starts to slow. "What're you planning?"

"Nothing!" She laughs, and he raises his eyebrows. "No, _really_. I just think this is really sweet."

"Didn't know I had it in me, huh?"

"You could say that."

And then it starts to rain.

"Jesus _Christ_ , Nate," Elena shouts over her shoulder while breaking for cover.

"Look, every part of the _world_ has a rainy season!"

"Australia. Next time you're taking me to _Australia_."

"Okay."

"And a boat. I want a boat."

"Pony too?"

She turns so quickly that for a moment Nate almost thinks she might hit him.

"Hey," he says. "Hey, I'm just joki--"

But instead she grabs hold of his wet shirt and wrenches him forward into a kiss.

*

"You still with me, mate?"

His vision was blurred, but he could still see the outline of Harry's face. And that stupid hair.

It wasn't rain on Nate's face after all. It was sweat. He was really starting to wear himself out. "Yeah." He swallowed, suddenly very aware of just how worn out and raw his own voice sounded in his ears. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He tried to smile, but it didn't last long.

"Well come on, then."

*

It's believed by some that Lancelot was buried at sea. That's how one version of the story goes. Buried beneath the waves and lost forever.

Another says that he became a hermit and died alone.

All versions of the tale seem to agree that Sir Lancelot and his son, Sir Galahad, were both involved in the search for the Grail.

It is said that Galahad was so blessed that he pulled a sword from a stone and brought the Grail to a sacred city carried in his own hands. And after, he ascended into Heaven directly, led there by Joseph of Arimathea himself.

This is the last record of the Holy Grail on Earth.

*

"The tomb."

"Come again?"

"The Grail. It's buried _with_ Sir Galahad."

"And how do you figure that one?"

"Don't you get it? It's the only thing that makes _sense_."

"Oh good, and now's the part where the American tells _me_ about _my_ history, I suppose?"

Nate couldn't help but smile at that. Hey, it was normal to enjoy being right. "Look, the Grail disappeared right after Galahad died. It makes _sense_."

"If it's so bloody obvious, how come nobody else has figured it out by now?"

"I dunno. Maybe they're all just pessimists like you." He turned back to glance at Harry. "Your countrymen, right?"

"Keep moving, Yankee."

 

*

"So why exactly are you _following_ me?"

"I'm not following. I'm helping."

"If you were helping, wouldn't you be leading?"

"That might be the case if I knew where you were going."

"So you're basically useless."

Harry sneered. "Oh, yes. You found me out. I'm just here to make your life _harder_. Poor you."

"Oh, so you _can_ take a hint."

"Do you ever just _shut up_?"

Nate laughed. "Make me."

So Harry kissed him. His kiss was hard, aggressive, with angry blunt fingers against Nate's face. He was stronger than Nate remembered.

Harry's mouth tasted like whiskey at first, and then something else. It was coppery, sharp and familiar.

And then Nate realized.

It was the taste of a fast upper cut to the jaw. The taste of his chin smacking the edge of a railing as he started to lose his grip, or biting his own tongue when a grenade went off too close to his feet for comfort.

Harry's mouth tasted like blood and ash.

Nate stumbles back to the sound of sharp laughter. Sharp like the copper taste on his tongue and the sting of smoke in the air. Harry laughs and his lips pull back to reveal bright white teeth. His lips pull back in tatters and there's blood everywhere. It's in his hair and on his chest. It's spreading.

With every heavy breath she takes, it spreads. She's panting now, almost panicking, and the blood is creeping up, up, up. Spreading. "Ohh," she says with a mouth shaped in a wide-opened 'O' of surprise and fear.

Elena looks up at him with watery eyes, blinking slowly.

 

*

She has to blink fast to keep the rain drops out of her eyes, and eventually he shields her head with one hand.

The cars passing by are loud but their heartbeats are even louder. He leans in close in the alleyway to hear her above the scream of traffic. She presses into him and whispers in his ear.

 

*

Her hand is on his wrist when he wakes up over Ipswich. They'll be landing soon and he's careful to rub the sleep out of his eye with the heel of his other hand. He'll just leave that one there for Elena.

Her other hand keeps a pocket guide book pinned open in her lap, scanning for information.

 

*

She kisses him with a hand on his hip and the other on his jaw. She opens her mouth, and he tastes--

 

*

She laughs with her back to him. Her back against the window. Her mouth opens and she--

 

*

Nate stumbled back, feeling weak and overwhelmed. The taste in his mouth was so repulsive that he would have spit if he didn't have to worry that it might make him spill the rest of the contents of his stomach too.

"Calm down, alright. I only want to help."

The thing that looked like Harry stepped forward from the shadows. It had his face on again, but the skin was all back where it ought to be. Not a zombie or a corpse -- for now.

"Help. Right."

"I feel bad, after all. I didn't _really_ mean to kill your girlfriend."

Nate looked at the Harry thing, and he could feel his expression hardening. "Elena is _fine_."

"Is she? Are you sure?"

Harry's laugh sounded strange, almost unreal, which made a lot of sense. It couldn't be him, after all.

That was no excuse for it to sound so much like Elena.

"Because it seems to me that one of us is having crazy hallucinations," said Harry's voice. "And I'm pretty sure it isn't me. I'm not even here, after all."

For a psychotic manifestation, at least it was pretty honest.

But honesty was the last thing Nate needed right now. He could outrun Harry easy enough when he was real and human, so a ghost shouldn't really be a problem.

Might as well test the theory.

"Nate!"

He didn't stop or slow down. He didn't hesitate.

"Don't be stupid, Nathan! I'm only trying to help!"

 

*

"Hold still."

"Ow."

"You big baby."

Despite his protests, Elena really is being gentle. She changes his bandages and washes his wounds. Voluntarily.

"You almost done?"

"I can go slower, if you'd like."

"I really wouldn't."

She puts up with a lot. He's pretty sure he's lost track of the reasons why.

Aside the whole being fantastic in bed thing, that is, but Elena's not bad looking herself. She could always find someone else.

It's almost unreal, how understanding she is.

It's almost as if it isn't real.

It's almost like it never--

 

*

Ash.

He could smell ash, not only taste it. It was the heavy smell of something burning. Or someone.

And footsteps echoing down the hall, growing closer. Gaining ground. They were going to catch him.

Nate ran, blurred vision, shaky legs, and all. He almost tripped twice and once nearly fell into another wide open green wound leading to a room below. The smell from that pit was unbearable and made him dizzy, but still he kept moving. Each time he caught himself, took a moment to breathe, and pressed on.

One long hallway followed another. Old unlit torches were set just a little below his eye level; men were shorter in those days. As he walked, he left footprints in the dust. This was a path few men had taken in quite some time.

Left, right, and left again. On and on. Right, right, left, and right around another corner straight into Sully.

"Woah, hey--"

Nate jerked, quickly tried to stumble back, but he just swayed instead and slumped into Sully's arms.

"Easy there, kiddo. Come on, I got you." Ash. He could smell ash. He could taste it. The smell was all around him and he could see the smoke too.

And the blood. There was so much blood.

There's so much blood, in Elena's hair and moving on her eyelashes when she blinks.

She looks up at him and she's afraid. She's so afraid, though she tries to hide it. He's never _seen_ her when she's afraid before. Not of anything. She's had psychopaths hold her at gunpoint, for chrissake. She isn't _supposed_ to get scared. She's the one who wants to stick around even when Nate's every instinct is telling him to run and hide. She's the reason _to_ to stick around.

And she can't die. Not now.

"What's wrong with him?"

"I dunno. But it looks pretty bad."

There's a voice coming from far away.

 

*

Elena's right hook is absolutely unmistakable, but a slap feels just about the same no matter who delivers it. That was the only excuse for why it took Nate a few moments to register what was going on.

"You?" he mumbled, blinking slowly, trying to process.

"And you." Elena smiled, and even though it was a little strained it was still so god damn beautiful that Nate had to laugh.

"You feeling okay?" she said, sounding worried, and it was selfish, so selfish, but that felt good too.

"Never better!" But then he winced, and had to rectify. "Okay, plenty of times I've been better. But I've also been worse, so it evens out."

"For one thing, there's no bullet in your gut this time." Sully gnawed at his cigar as he spoke, smiling with the other side of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. "Good thing, too. 'Cause I don't know how to sew."

"One of many flaws."

"If you boys are done with your reunion, I think we should probably get going."

"Sure thing," Nate said, feeling more optimistic already. Elena was _here_. She was alive, decidedly _not_ covered in blood, and all the smoke smell was coming from Sully's cigar.

Come to think of it, that was the _only_ thing Nate could smell anymore, and his head was feeling a whole lot better for it. "Hey--" He tried to stand, but stopped again, sitting down. Feeling a lot better than absolute shit didn't mean he was ready to attempt something crazy like walking and talking at the same time.

"… hey. How come you guys aren't dizzy?" It was a pretty good question, so Nate had to chuckle. "You're standing and everything."

Elena and Sully exchanged a look that Nate really didn't appreciate. At better times, he would have even told them. It was so condescending!

But just now he could barely form coherent sentences, so he would have to take them to task for babying him later on.

 

*

"So you were running away from Harry Flynn when you ran into us?"

"Right."

"Harry's dead, Nate."

"Yes, I _know_ that, Sully. And boy did he taste like it, too."

"Taste--" Elena started, but Nate wasn't about to follow _that_ line of thinking just now, so he got up and started to pace.

"Look, we've got to work this out. Why this thing affected me the way it did and left you two completely untouched." Once they'd gotten further away from the plants, it hadn't taken long for Nate to get most of his balance back. Now he was only as clumsy as he'd ever been.

"Maybe it just likes me better, Nate. I'm a really likable guy."

When Sully talked, he used his hands. Maybe he thought he had to emote extra hard to draw some attention away from Nate. Which would be crazy, naturally, but Sully could be an insecure guy sometimes. Unlike Nate.

"Sure, Sully."

"What? I am." He moved his hand again, waving it vaguely and leaving a trail of smoke in its wake.

Nate coughed, but smiled through a grimace.

He coughed.

He--

"Hey, Sully, how long have you been smoking that?"

"Nate, don't start. I'm an old man, I can enjoy--"

"No, really. All day?"

Sully frowned, watching Nate with undisguised suspicion. "This is my second."

"It's the _cigar_."

"Yeah, I _know_ , Nate. I find it relaxing, so--"

"No, _Sully_. That's why it didn't effect you."

"… come again?"

"The smell."

Elena drew closer, wrinkling up her nose. "You really think so?"

"I guess." Nate just had to laugh. "I mean, it's the only thing that makes sense, right?"

"Huh," Sully grunted. "Well, I guess that'll teach _you_ to make fun of my habit."

"Oh, trust me. It's still disgusting, but I love you for it, Sully."

"God damn right you do."

It was one of those moments. Nate could feel a plan beginning to form.

The others must have seen it too.

Sully flicked ashes from the tip of his cigar and grunted, rubbing them out in the dirt. "Well, shit."

Elena grimaced, as if bracing herself for impact.

Still smiling, Nate reached out and took her hand in his.

"Come on," he said. "I've got an idea."

   


>  _And down the river's dim expanse  
>  Like some bold seer in a trance,  
> Seeing all his own mischance --  
> With a glassy countenance._ \- Alfred Lord Tenneyson's "Lady of Shallot"


End file.
